The Prince In the Desert
by ThePrinceofAshes
Summary: AU: Jon is born with the Targaryen colouring, and he is raised in Dorne as Ser Arthur Dayne's trueborn son. Events in Canon take place during 300 AL, though story starts at 298 AL. Contains Sexual References, Coarse Language and Violence.


**WARNING: Contains sexual references.**

**Inspired From:**

**Tales From the Sand by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS.**

**Point of Divergence by Grumpywinter **

* * *

**Just a Few Points you need to know before going into the story, because the past events will be revealed during character thought.**

**1. Jon is born with the Targaryen colouring**

**2. Eddard and his six companions do not fight the three Kingsguard knights, and solve the solution peacefully**

**3. When Lyanna dies, Eddard reluctantly agrees with Arthur's suggestion to raise Jon as a Dayne of Starfall in order to keep him safe, as they both look alike and Jon could never pass off as Eddard's bastard.**

**4. Ashara Dayne gave birth to a bastard daughter of Brandon Stark. Ashara does not commit suicide, and her baby survives.**

**5. Jon has been raised in both the Water Gardens and Starfall for all of his life, and is not aware of his maternal connection with the Starks.**

* * *

**298 AL**

**Ser Daemon Sand charged at him with the hooked blade upheld,** his blue eyes alit with determination, going to his foreswing and following it with a backswing. Jon dodged the first and met the second with his longsword. The weight of the sword sent his opponent's blade back, back, back…but not far enough to knock the blade free of his hands.

"Push through his defence, Daemon," Prince Oberyn Martell told his former squire, leaning against the wooden fence surrounding the sparring field with his hands. Daemon slashed forward at him, in a motion so quick that Jon barely managed to back away from it.

Ser Daemon Sand was one of Jon's close friends in Dorne, and regular sparring partner alongside Obara Sand. The Bastard of Godsgrace was nineteen years old, five years older than Jon himself. Tall, handsome with a strong jaw, he had sky-blue eyes and light sandy brown hair with a close-cropped beard. He was lean with muscle, and was stronger, faster and bigger than him. However, Jon could safetly assure himself that he was more skilled - at least with the sword. It was not arrogance, but merely fact. However, if Daemon had been fighting with a spear, Jon would have had no chance.

Ser Daemon continued his attack with a series of overhead blows, all which Jon managed to blocked away with the blunt side of his sword. The effort however, was beginning to tire him out. Jon attempted to stay focused, but it was growing harder as he felt his arms slowly turn to lead.

Ever since Daemon had asked Jon for a friendly spar, it had turned into an intense bout. They had been going at this for almost thirty minutes, and neither wanted to give in to defeat.

"Keep your sword-arm nice and steady, Jon." His father instructed, his arms folded over his broad chest, purple eyes watching them intently."Concentrate now on how you can go for offensive blow."

Jon quickly did as he was advised and tensed up his legs for good measure, straightening his stance and keeping looking carefully at Daemon's eyes, watching for a hint of what his opponent was planning to do next. Always look into a man's eyes, never his hands or feet. The eyes broadcasts all of the warrior's future movements before he even knows it, his father had once told him when he was ten years old.

Daemon sent an an arching shot that sliced the fabric of Jon's padded shirt at the midsection. It missed the flesh behind it by perhaps a centimeter. Jon gritted his teeth and knitted his eyebrows.

Feeling the sudden burst of adrenaline rush through his body, Jon raised his sword to block a swing from Daemon. He pushed him back and forced their swords apart, kicking Daemon in the stomach and causing the knight to stumble backwards and almost fall over.

"Finish it, Jon." His father said to him, nodding his head at Daemon. Jon wiped away the sweat beading at his forehead and gnashed his teeth.

_Swing. Swing. Swing._ The first two barely missed, but the third, a backswing off the one before it, managed to find his opponents sword-arm.

Daemon yelped in pain and Jon quickly followed up with a sharp elbow to the throat, forcing Daemon to drop his sword. Jon kicked it away and tackled the undefended Daemon to the ground, scurrying on top of him and locking down the struggling Daemon, straddling him, who managed to punch Jon in the jaw. Jon responded in kind by slapping him hard, and then pointing his sword at his throat.

"I yield," Daemon muttered. Jon pressed the tip of his sword against Daemon's bare throat.

"I yield." Daemon surrendered louder this time, for Prince Oberyn and Jon's father to hear.

Jon got up on his feet and offered Daemon a hand. "Good match, Sand." Jon said

Daemon took it and Jon pulled him up. "Good game, Dayne." He smiled, showing no hard feelings for the loss, as they shook hands.

After Daemon retrieved his sword and they both made sure they had not caused any serious injury to each other, they both walked over to Prince Oberyn and Jon's father, who were discussing something in low voices. When Jon and Daemon neared them, they stopped talking and looked up. Jon's father wore a proud expression on his face, while Prince Oberyn gazed at them approvingly.

"You did well in your duel, Daemon, and you accepted victory without complaint. And fine work on your victory today, Jon. Your skill as a swordsman, especially for one such at fourteen, is explementary. You are truly your father's son." Oberyn said earnestly, making Jon grin at those words. Prince Oberyn Martell was a handsome man in his early forties, with a line face, a sharp nose, thin eyebrows and black eyes that were shaped like a viper. His hair was black and lustrous with only a few silver streaks, and receded from his brow into a widow's peak.

Jon really liked Oberyn, mainly because he always stayed true to himself and never went back on his word. He was very witty and quick with his words, with a barbed tongue and a forceful, fierce persona that made you want to stay well on his good side at all times.

Once both Oberyn and Daemon had taken their leave, Jon was left alone with his father - the man he admired and looked up upon the most. Ser Arthur Dayne was forty years old, but he was as healthy, strong and capable as a man at twenty. He was slim and muscular, and was very handsome, with silver-blonde hair and deep violet eyes that were both equal parts mesmerising and intense. His face was hard and lean, and he stood tall and broad shouldered.

Jon loved his father very much. He had been originally a sworn brother of King Aerys' Kingsguard, but had refused to serve King Robert after he had usurped the throne from House Targaryen. He was honourable, strong on justice, chivalrous and fair-minded, with a strict moral code. He was a good father, constantly pushing Jon beyond his limits and encouraging him in his martial and academic arts. One of the bravest and highly skilled warriors Jon had ever seen, Ser Arthur Dayne had once taken on twenty men-at-arms with nothing but his greatsword Dawn and had defeated them all with not even a scratch.

No matter in Starfall, the Water Gardens or Sunspear, Jon practised with his father everyday with a variety of different melee weapons. Sometimes, others would join them depending on where they were - like Jon's younger cousin Edric before he had left to squire at Blackhaven in the Dornish Marches. Jon was currently squiring for his father and was learning all he could on how he could become a true and valiant knight. He hoped one day he could live up to his father's standards...and legacy.

"You did excellent during that bout, Jon. You improved upon all the mistakes that we discovered and brought up during our last training session at Starfall. Though you should concentrate more on your defensive manoeuvring." Ser Arthur said.

"I will, and thank you, Father." Jon responded.

Arthur smiled. "That's a good lad. You have the makings to be a fine swordsman, and possibly one day, a great knight."

"Maybe that one day could be someday near my fifteenth birthday? What do you say, Father?"

His father chuckled. "Don't be cheeky, Jon. I will have you knighted when the time is right. You are still too young for it to be appropriate, and you have yet to prove yourself." He said, not unkindly.

"You made Ser Jaime Lannister a knight when he was fifteen years old," Jon pointed out before he could stop himself. "I've been practising with you for every day since I could walk. Aemon the Dragonknight became a knight when he was _thirteen_ years old. Why cannot I? I think I could make a great knight."

Jon wished he had never spoken, for his father's face darkened and his mouth turned into a scowl. "The Kingslayer was a mistake on my part - one I wish time and time again I could go back in time and redo. He was not worthy of being a knight. Don't ever bring that up against me again, Jon. Just because you are my son doesn't mean I'll grant you the title that you have not rightfully earned. A knight is more than just your skill at the martial arts. It takes time and dedication to become a true knight. When I say you are not ready, you must believe me. I only became a knight when I was eighteen years old, and served the Kingsguard from the start of twenty. It was the greatest responsibility I had ever partaken, and the one I failed."

Their was a tense silence, as Jon's conscious filled with shame. His father had never spoken of his past to Jon. Ever. He had gotten most of his information on his father from his aunts Ashara and Allyria, Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn, and his lord uncle before he had died. He knew his father had left the Kingsguard service with the permission of Prince Rhaegar when he had met and fallen in love with Jon's mother (whoever she was), and that his father secretly supported the return of House Targaryen to Westeros.

"I am sorry, Father. I spoke out of place." Jon said quietly.

"No, you spoke what was in your heart," His father clasped Jon's aching shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. "You remind me so much of your mother sometimes, Jon. Bold, daring, fierce and loyal, faithful to the bone. But that doesn't stop me noticing how much you take from your _paternal _side. Don't ever change."

Jon nodded. Their was a comfortable silence between the before Jon asked, "Father, when are we going back to Starfall?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Are you already sick of the Water Gardens, Jon? Tired of seeing Princess Arianne, Prince Trystane and all your close friends every day? We've only been here for two weeks."

Jon shook his head. "Never. This place is like a second home to me. I've spent half my life here, and the other times at Starfall with our family. It's just that...I miss Aunt Ashara and Allyria. And I miss Jeyne." His bastard cousin had been his closest friend at Starfall when Edric left for Blackhaven.

"Me too, Jon. But Prince Doran and Oberyn want us here for the time being. It is best we follow their wishes. Besides," Arthur gave him a knowing look with a smirk. "Wouldn't Lady Rivina Gargalen also miss your sweet company?"

Jon's mouth opened, and he blushed. How had his Father discovered their relationship? Had one of the Sand Snakes told him, or Arianne or even Maron, Rivina's bastard brother and one of Jon's closest friends? What they had was not illegal or frowned upon in Dorne, but he knew his father disapproved on Jon's "distractions". A clear contrast to Prince Oberyn, who continually encouraged Jon on his sexual escapades.

His father must have noticed the expression of shock on his face, because he chuckled. "I'm not stupid, Jon. You may be keeping it a secret, but you will be surprised on how many people are aware. I've known for a long time the "history" between you too. I trust that you have not sired a child with her?"

Jon's cheek's reddened a deeper colour. "No, Father. We are careful." That was a lie. Jon always finished inside her even when he tried not too. Their relationship was not exclusive, but he had bedded her more times than any other man combined.

"Lord Tremond Gargalen is a good, fair and honest man, and Salt Shore and Starfall had close ties of friendship and distant kinship. But I don't think even he would welcome his eldest daughter and heir conceiving a child, especially since you have no plans on marrying her, is that true?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?" It was a simple question, but it prodded open so many repressed thoughts in Jon's mind. Did he love the women he had often shared a bed with since he was twelve?

Jon hesitated. "No. I am very fond of Rivina, but I do not love her." It was horrible of him to say, he realised, but it was not like he saw a future beyond what they were currently doing. Jon did not think she would disagree with his logic either.

"I just hope you know what you are doing, Jon."

"I wonder that myself everyday, Father. Not just Rivina or other women, my friends and family, my skill as a warrior, but with the direction of my life."

Arthur nodded. "I thought of that often myself when I was your age. It took me a long time to come to the decision of joining King Aerys' Kingsguard."

"Do you think one day, I can become a Sword of the Morning like yourself?"

"Absolutely, Jon. But enough of this. We have wasted enough time as it is. Go have a bath and clean yourself up. No offence, but you stink like a pig rutting around in the mud all through the afternoon. Spend the rest of the day to your leisure."

Jon peeled off his gloves. "I will, Father."

* * *

**Jon had been resting in the baths after his sparring match with Daemon for almost three hours, **pleasuring himself on the cool water's embrace around his body as he lowered himself into it's warmth. He was by himself, with not a person in sight. As he relaxed, all the troubles in the world and his personal dilemmas seemed like a faint, distant memory.

He opened his eyes and stretched out his arms and shoulders, looking down and remarking at the person/his reflection, staring right back at him on the water's surface. His thick, wet, silver-blonde hair was splashed across all over his face, and his purple eyes were a deep, dark shade of lilac. He had tanned skin basked from the Dornish sun, with high cheekbones and long, thick eyelashes. All of these he had inherited from his father. However, his face was long and solemn, something that he had apparently taken from his mother. Some beautiful, Dornish commoner who had died from childbirth.

Jon knew that many girls found him very attractive - a fact that had been relayed to him often by Arianne, Sarella, Tyene and Rivina. Although having the occasional woman or man in Dorne goggle at him could be infuriating especially when his friends made fun of it constantly, it actually had worked many times into Jon's advantage. If Jon had ever had the desire to marry in the future, it was safe to say he did not need to try hard to look for a suitable women.

Jon thought about what his father had said. He really _was _being selfish and arrogant when it came to wanting to be a knight. He could not help it, though. He wanted so bad to be like the heroes in the tales he had read - like Daeron the Young Dragon, or Aemon the Dragonknight, or Florian the Fool. Or even like his father, who had defeated the Smiling Knight in single combat.

He loved Dorne so much, but he wanted the freedom to explore Westeros and make his mark in the realm. He had asked his father to allow him to foster with a noble family of the other kingdoms, but Arthur Dayne had adamantly refused. Was it wrong of him to want to be someone, except for the son of the legendary Sword of the Morning. His father always tried to discourage him from this mind-set, but a boy could dream.

_And that's what I am, until I turn sixteen._

His mind trailed forward to his family. Young Edric, Lord of Starfall and a squire for Lord Beric Dondarrion. His cousin was a good person with a noble heart who always tried his best. His aunt Allyria, three years older than him, outgoing and headstrong. His aunt Ashara, the castellian of his ancestral home, who always listened to him no matter the time and treated him more like a mother to her son. Jeyne, his other cousin, the illegitimate daughter of Brandon Stark and his aunt. Jon viewed her as his sister, and loved her so much. If anyone hurt her, there was nothing that would stop Jon from killing them. He had spent all his life at Starfall, the Water Gardens and Sunspear that Jon could no call anywhere else home.

He thought of his good friend Quentyn Martell, who he had not shared a letter with in ages from Yronwood. Jon remembered how sad he had felt when it was announced Quentyn would be fostered their. It would mean the times Jon would be able to see him would be scarce. His own mother had left Westeros because of it, and Doran Martell was more distanced than ever. Trystane Martell, the young Dornish prince who Jon enjoyed talking and playing with. Trystane was smarter than his years, that was for sure.

And that was when Princess Arianne Martell, the heiress to Sunspear, opened the door and stepped inside. Jon looked back and squinted, not recognising her for a moment with all the smoke from the spring-water clouding his view. She wore an orange, flowing silk dress with jewels and other ostentatious displays of wealth, concealing much of her lush and curvaceous body. An ornate snake coiled around her right arm.

In Jon's opinion, Arianne was the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes upon. She was buxom and very attractive. She had large, temptress black eyes and long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets to the middle of her back, and smooth olive skin. Despite being six years older than Jon, Arianne was shorter than him, the top of her head reaching up to his eyes. Jon would never dare to admit it aloud, but the sight of her made him aroused. It was a miracle she was still unmarried.

She stopped by where he was. "I expected to find you here, Jon. Especially after your spar with Daemon. I heard you beat him good. I wish I had been their to see it."

_She's more like Oberyn that her own father. _

"To what do I owe this rare honour, Princess?" Jon asked, grinning. Their conversations usually started with formality.

"I am acting as a messenger from my father. He alongside Oberyn wishes to speak with you. I am to lead you to the pool as soon as you are ready."

"And I am sure you hate that very much."

Arianne smiled, in a seductive way that made Jon's groin ache. She had not tried her charms on him yet, but Jon knew she would eventually. They had known each other for such a long time - ever since he was a toddler, in fact - but that would not stop Arianne from trying to seduce him. He had only lately realised that she was attracted to him as he was to her, despite the age difference. It was the little things that he had noticed when they interacted.

Despite his fondness for Arianne, Jon knew he had to be careful around her. She was a very ambitious and strong-willed person, who strived to obtain whatever she wanted with whatever the cost.

"You have no idea, Jon. I was hoping to go for a ride with Sylvia, Drey and yourself if you wanted, but my father would not allow it. As if he can do that - he does not even want me to succeed him. Why should I respect what he wants."

Oh boy, this again. "Your father loves you, Arianne, in spite of what you believe. Prince Doran is a very...complicated man." _To say the least. _

"I know what he wants. He wants me disinherited and Quentyn as the future Prince of Dorne. He gives me all these worthless, ineligible suitors too old and crusty for anyone's liking and I am expected to not be slighted? How could he-?"

Jon groaned. "Gods, you know I love you Arianne and would do anything to help you out, but you are acting paranoid. He is your _father."_

Arianne scoffed. "That's easy for you to say. You're father actually shows love and respect to you, and is actually interested in your well-being and raising you up himself. My father only visits me twice a year. He has no respect for me."

Arianne breathed in, and then smiled down at Jon. "But I digress. Come, change your clothes and let us be off."

Jon looked at her warily before paddling to the stair-wall. Arianne never let anything go, no matter how small or large the matter was. As he climbed out of the bath, Jon expected Arianne to turn around to avert her gaze, but she continued to look at him.

"Ah, Princess, do you mind...?" Jon trailed off.

"I do not." She answered.

Jon was silent, before shrugging. "As you wish." He got out of the pool and went to collect his towel, feeling Arianne staring at his back. It was not a feeling that he disliked.

Jon wrapped his towel around his waist and made for the changing rooms, Arianne following him. He did not comment when she entered after him, regardless of how inappropriate it was. Arianne had never been the one to follow the rules.

She sat down at a bench, watching him change. "How is Rivina?" She said, her tone dry and suggestive.

_Is she mocking me?_

Jon flushed, and remembered what his father had said. "Did you tell my father about herself and I?"

Her black eyes widened. "No. My gods, does he know?"

"Yes. It was quite awkward. How am I supposed to elaborate that I have been having a sexual relationship with Rivina for over two years?"

"Not just one girl, but multiple women." Arianne reminded him, smirking.

"You don't have to remind me. I remember each encounter vividly, trust me. I am not ashamed of having sex with them, but...what about your father? Does he not care that you've slept around?"

Arianne shook his head. "He didn't even care when Daemon took my maidenhead. Why would he care about the others?"

"All part of a Dornish mind-set, it seems."

Jon finished changing and pulled on his boots. He got up and offered an arm to Arianne. "My Princess, would you like to show me the way?"

Arianne took his arm. "My lord, I would be quite thrilled."

With a nod, he followed after the heir to Dorne. Arianne led him to the pools where two of Prince Doran's personal guard were patrolling the area. They nodded their consent once Arianne told them of her father's request. They opened the door and let Jon and the Princess inside.

Inside was Areo Hotah, the captain of Prince Doran's personal guard. Areo was broad-shouldered with white hair. He bared a longaxe that has a shaft six feet long. Maester Caleotte stood at the captain's right, bowing in response to the Princess and Jon's entrance. Seated on his high seat was Prince Doran Martell. Jon almost winced at the state of Doran; his gout had grown worse since the last time Jon had seen him at the Water Gardens.

But he knew the man wanted no pity and stayed hidden so that his enemies would not know of his weakness. Enemies that included the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Jon knew that his father, Prince Oberyn and Prince Doran had been conspiring for years to exact revenge on the Baratheons and Lannisters - mainly because he had overheard one time Oberyn and his father talking about Prince Viserys and his sister Daenerys travelling the Free Cities. How they would plan to do that, Jon did not know. Jon understood why they wanted vengeance, and wished them all the best when the time came.

"Father, I have brought you Jon, as you asked." Arianne said politely.

Doran Martell raised his head from where he was and looked at Jon with his dark eyes for a long time. "Thank you, Arianne." He said in a raspy voice.

Jon heard someone clear their throat, and turned his gaze towards the sound. He almost stepped back in surprise when he saw his father and Prince Oberyn stand in different corners of the room - one on the right and the other on the left. Oberyn gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, while Arthur smiled at him. Areo Hotah stared only at the door he had entered from.

"Prince Oberyn, Father, Prince Doran, Captain Areo. It feels like I am in some massive trouble." Jon japed, mostly to himself.

"Not you, Jon, but for the rest of us, it remains to be certain." Jon did not like what Prince Doran was saying.

In the middle of them was someone he did not expect to see. Tyene Sand. One of Prince Oberyn's infamous bastard children - the Sand Snakes. Tyene was the mother of the Prince and a Septa. Jon had not actually believed Mors Sand when he had told him. He found it fascinating that Oberyn could have seduced a person of the Faith.

Tyene was beautiful, and was dressed in a clinging gown of pale blue samite with sleeves of Myrish lace that made her look as innocent as the Maiden herself. In one hand was a piece of embroidery she had been working on, in the other a pair of golden needles. Her hair was gold as well, and her eyes were deep blue pools...though they reminded Jon so much of her father's viper eyes.

Tyene smiled sweetly at Jon, noticing his surprised expression. "Hello, Jon. It has been a long time since I have seen you. I pray the Father and the Warrior has kept you safe?"

Tyene kept a sweet and pious persona, but Jon knew from experience that she was manipulative, dangerous and calculating. She had soft pale hands but they are as deadly as Obara's callused ones, if not more so. She shared her father's knowledge of poisons and it was her chosen weapon. Despite Jon's wariness - Maron had once called the Sand Snakes "Oberyn with teats" - he loved her like a brother would his older sister.

"I am fine, Tyene. I hope your travels in the Free Cities were productive and worthwhile?"

Tyene nodded and stepped closer. Even the way she moved was graceful and elegant. "Definitely. I hope to show Arianne and yourself a few...tricks and techniques I learnt in Lys. You will both find it quite...versatile and enjoyable to watch me act upon another."

Oberyn cleared his throat. "Tyene, Jon." He gestured at Doran, who was waiting patiently.

"Thank you, Oberyn. Now, Jon, I thank you for coming at such short notice," He drank some cool water before speaking again. "The reason why I sent for you is because I would like you to do your father and myself a favour."

"May I ask what type of favour, my Prince?"

"King Robert Baratheon," Doran said his name with minor disdain. "Is holding a tournament for the anniversary of his fifteenth year holding the Iron Throne, which also coincides with Princess Myrcella's birthday. It is foretold to be one of the biggest and most splendid tourneys the realm had ever seen. The prize for the winner of the joust is said to be over a twenty-five thousand golden dragons. King's Landing will be a busy place during this time."

Maester Caleotte spoke up. "Lord Jon Arryn, Robert's Hand, had sent ravens to all of the Seven Kingdoms requesting to once more renew their fealty to King Robert. As a way of showing loyalty. He has asked each kingdom supply an noble envoy."

"All the Great Houses can either come themselves or send someone of close confidence in their stead. I hear that Lord Stark and a few of his children will be riding to the capitol, along with the Tullys. Many nobles will be there for the renewal of fealty and the tourney."

"So?" Jon asked. "I don't understand why that would be the problem."

His father said from across the room. "From Dorne, Lord Jon has asked specifically that House Dayne be the lead occupants of this envoy. Particularly one person."

Jon understood. "Yourself."

"It seems King Robert was dissatisfied with the promise Lord Eddard Stark gave to him that Arthur would not attempt to raise the Targaryens back on the throne." Oberyn snorted. "He obviously wants Arthur to kiss his arse publicly and declare Robert the true king."

"That is very cute of him." Tyene muttered.

"He does not even care if the Martells are a part of this envoy. Only Arthur." Doran said, looking sternly at Tyene.

Jon could now see why they all looked unhappy. He looked at his father. "You do not want to go to King's Landing."

"Exactly." Oberyn said.

Arianne said, "You want Jon to go in his father's place."

Doran smiled, almost devilishly. "You see, Arthur was getting ready to leave before he caught a sudden fever that left him bed-ridden and infectious to anyone he came in contact with. As such, he was not able to travel anywhere for the next few months. This was unfortunate, as he would miss the tournament. But in order to placate this, he sent his loved son in his place. A son that he "broke" his Kingsguard vows to have with his beloved wife. A child that the entire realm is curious about."

Jon grimaced. "You would sent me into a lion's den like the capitol? Paraded with Lannisters and Baratheons?"

Arthur Dayne shook his head. "I do not like this either Jon. But I cannot keep you in Dorne forever. You must learn and experience the real world on your own, and learn it's harsh lessons. You must see the realm and all it's glories...and it's darkness."

Jon considered this. He had been wanting to explore Westeros and travel through as many kingdoms as he could. Perhaps this was the best way for it. He was fourteen years old, fifteen on his nameday. Almost a man.

"Why can't Edric go himself? He is Lord of Starfall."

"He is all the way in the Stormlands, Jon. Let him be. He is too young to concern himself with this matter of politics. You however, can afford it."

"Will I be going to King's Landing by myself, or with companions?" Jon asked cautiously.

Tyene said, "I will be accompanying you to King's Landing, Jon."

Jon frowned. "Why Tyene? Not that I would mind her." He backtracked.

Oberyn said, "My daughter shall be on her own mission of importance as well. She will be meeting with Doran's spies and accomplices at King's Landing, and shall observe who are our allies and enemies at court. As my natural daughter, that provides her a perfect alibi for travelling with your group. And a way to represent House Martell."

"I see," Jon nodded slowly. "Ignoring the fact that the other kingdoms might see that as insulting, I understand. How many people will be travelling with us? Will we be going by ship or on horseback?"

"So many questions. Tyene, yourself, and at least twenty members of a Dornish noble retinue to give the envoy credibility. I will have thirty men-at-arms accompany you to King's Landing. You will be travelling by ship. We have hired our own personal boat with a captain we have placed our trust in."

Jon thought for a moment. It sounded like a hefty proposal - one that he was looking forward to embark upon. "Wait, you said there will be a tournament. Will I be required to attend?" He hoped Doran would confirm this. He so badly wanted to see a tourney, to see the way the other kingdoms performed theirs.

"Not only will you be attending, but you will be enlisting yourself into the lists." Arthur said.

Jon was puzzled. "I will?"

"Yes. It is a _compulsory _event for the envoys of the kingdoms to either attend or perform. First the tournament, then the feast."

"What? I thought tourneys were only open up to knights and nobles over sixteen?"

"Yes, but for this tournament, Robert Baratheon had decreed that anyone over the age of thirteen will be able to enrol in the jousting, the archery competition and the single combat stage, with restrictions of course. Every noble father from the North to Dorne will want their sons competing for top honours."

Jon had never heard of a tourney with a competition for single-combat - one on one duels till first blood or one party yields. This was even better than he had originally expected. He could not wait to test his steel against the other men of the the different kingdoms.

"So I am to go to King's Landing and act as an "ambassador" for Dorne, and prove myself in the lists?"

"Yes."

"When will Tyene and I leave?" Jon said eagerly

"Tomorrow, in the early morning." Doran said.

Jon faltered. "Tomorrow? You're telling me this in the afternoon, and I have to leave tomorrow? I am not even ready!"

Arianne smirked at him. "You are lucky that you're even going. I have to stay here. I would love to take your place."

"Jon, behaviour." Arthur said.

Doran raised his wrinkled hand. "I see nothing that Jon has done wrong. You must be ready, Jon. Much of future events of this realm will depend of the outcome of this tournament. Will the realm see peace for another fifteen years, or will civil war break out and tear us all apart? Tyene and yourself both have important jobs."

"We will, Uncle," Tyene said. "Right, Jon?"

"Of course, my Prince. Your wish is our command." Jon said. Their was no use complaining. This was an opportunity of a life time. To meet new people and to see great wonders. The only sad thing Jon could really say that he would miss his family and friends, including Mors, Maron, Arianne, Sarella and Daemon.

"Excellent. By daybreak, your horses will be saddled and prepared for your ride to the Tor, where you will take ship. Jon, pack your things and say goodbye to your friends and family. You will not be seeing them for quite some time," Doran smiled at him. "May luck guide your fortunes. May the Seven bless your travels."

"Yes, my prince. Thank you." Jon bowed.

"Now then. Arianne, Tyene, Jon, please leave us be. We have important matters to discuss. Enjoy your last night here, Jon, _as much as you can._" Jon bowed as Doran dismissed them, his mind buzzing with excitement and he left the room alongside Arianne and Tyene.

* * *

**Prince Doran watched his daughter, his niece and Jon leave, **wondering how much longer the façade of Jon's parentage would be able to hold. Every year, Jon continued to look more and more like his father and this year was no different. Though only fourteen, Jon was tall, with long silver-gold hair that was tied loosely away from his face with a red leather band. He had his mother's long and solemn face, and looked like a Stark around the eyes, the nose and the mouth. He was muscular from the years of training, but with a much more slender frame than Rhaegar. His purple eyes seemed to catch everything, and dressed in black, Doran was glad that Arthur had claimed the boy as his own instead of listening to Ned Stark. No way Lord Stark would have been able to claim the boy as his own. He did not just look Valyrian. If someone looked close, they would tell he looked _Targaryen._

Doran and Oberyn had been initially worried that the boy would take to his Targaryen side in more than just looks, but he seemed to be very much like Arthur in his early youth. The boy had a strong sense of honour and justice, and was a great deal more sombre and serious around others beside people he was close with. Oberyn had once told him that Jon had a perceptive and observant outlook on life, and preferred to stay quiet and listen than talk and ask questions. This time had been a rare occasion - the boy seemed to be in a very good mood and awfully talkative. He wondered if sex or sparring had anything to do with the slow change. That seemed to be the common case for most men.

He has lied to Arianne, Tyene and Jon. The letter had come a few weeks beforehand, and Doran and his allies in Dorne had just been getting ready. The nobles who would be encompassing the retinue had arrived at the Gardens a few days ago, and all was being placed in motion.

The boy was highly intelligent, Doran knew. Arthur had had him taught many things by his maester - a strict and fortuitous education fit for only a Prince, or a King. Doran knew Jon's well-learned mind would be of use in King's Landing.

Jon could be charismatic and charming when he wanted to be, and that he was sexually active. Sarella, Doran's own niece and Oberyn's sixteen year old daughter, had shared Jon's bed on occasion, as had a several other noblewomen. He was promiscuous, but not like Arianne or any of the Sand Snakes. No matter his true heritage, Jon would remain a Dornishmen at heart. It was strange that he had not fathered a bastard yet. Or perhaps he had, a child Doran was not aware of.

"I do not like this, Doran. Sending Jon to King's Landing where the Lions and Stags prowl on patrol. If Robert recognises Rhaegar in the boy, especially since he grows to look like him every year..."

"Really?" Doran raised his eyebrow. "I would think he grows to look more like his mother than his father." He had never met Lyanna Stark, but he had Eddard, and he could see the subtle similarities.

Oberyn stepped forward and stood next to Doran's chair. "Brother, it seems Jon is growing up to be a fine and capable young lad. A much better man than his true father. At least he is not half as arrogant or impetuous."

Oberyn had initially been furious with Doran for allowing the infant Jon to live in Dorne, but had been convinced otherwise when Doran had explained that Elia would never have wanted them to outcast an infant child, who could not be blamed for the sins of his parents. The least they could do was help Arthur raise him to be a strong, loyal, intelligent and honest man. And it seemed like they had nearly succeeded. Oberyn had grown fond of the boy despite himself, and had seen to it that he served as almost a third father figure.

"Indeed, Oberyn," Arthur stepped in beside his younger brother. "Jon would make his father and mother proud. He is slightly arrogant and his head is filled with fantasies and legends on knights and true warriors, but that is normal for a boy his age. At least he is not spoiled or indulged." Doran had warned Arthur to not do that with Jon, to make the boy earn his rewards. He had to learn to do things himself.

"Have you prepared the armour set for Jon?" Arthur asked.

"The smith at Sunspear delivered the final piece via his apprentice to me just this morning. It looks a-lot like your old Kingsguard armour but with the colours and sigil of House Dayne. Their are however, a few materials he has used that are much better and more efficient. "

"Good. The smith at Starfall isn't that skilled to make armour. Excellent with weapons and shields, but not full scale armour."

Doran has commissioned Oberyn and Arthur to have a set of good armour made for Jon so it could add legitimacy to his spot at the tourney, and his place as an advocate for Dorne. He wanted to dis away the suspicions that would be created over Jon's appearance. Sending Jon to King's Landing was a big risk, but one he was willing to take.

"Perhaps now it is time to set the plan Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn created in motion." Maester Caleotte had been on the secret from the very beginning.

_Ah, yes. The plan. The one where Dorne fights to put House Targaryen back on the Iron Throne again, and to make the Lannisters pay for their impudence and crimes against our house._

Oberyn shook his head. "No. As much as I would like that to happen, now is not the time. Robert Baratheon is still alive, and despite the allies we have to help us place Jon on the Iron Throne, support for the Baratheon regime is still strong. The Tyrells, the Lannisters, the Baratheons...even the Arryns have a powerful influence on how the realm."

"Once Robert Baratheon is dead, we can set the pieces in motion. The Stark's and the Tullys will join us if we can contest that Joffrey Baratheon would make a weak ruler, and we can prove Jon's legitimacy of being half-Stark. The Tyrells might even join us, but they will want to see Mace's daughter Margaery as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Something that Dorne will not want to see."

Arthur Dayne narrowed his eyebrows. "Doran, why do you insist that Jon marry Arianne when the time comes? I know you wish to bind House Martell with the Targaryens by marriage again, but even you must admit that would be a waste of an opportunity. Dorne is one of the weakest kingdoms in terms of offensive movement. Marrying Jon to Margaery Tyrell would grant us a hundred thousand swords. If we talk to Olenna Tyrell..."

Maester Caleotte agreed. "Jon is Dornish by upbringing. He will grant House Martells high honours at court if he ascends to the throne. He will give Dorne justice and the respect it deserves. Marrying Princess Arianne to him would be a strategical move in theory, but would remain pointless if the Tyrells decide to back Joffrey and wed Margaery to him. They are opportunists, after all."

"You wish to see a babe of half-Tyrell blood on throne after Jon?" Oberyn suggested hotly.

Doran sighed. "I have made this arrangement a long time ago...you both did not argue then. I have denied my daughter the rightful suitors she deserves in favour of this plan."

"My prince, perhaps if you marry Prince Viserys to Princess Arianne and support Jon's claim to the throne. Arianne and her consort will rule Dorne one day, and perhaps one of your granddaughters can wed Jon's heir?"

What the maester was saying did make perfect sense. Doran had been blinded by ambition and the desire to have his daughter as Queen. Dorne could perhaps only pledge Jon twenty, thirty thousand spears maximum at full strength, while the Reach could muster seventy thousand with a moment's notice. Damn them all.

"Enough," Doran took a sip of water and coughed. "All three of you make valid points. However, we do have strong allies in The Reach who can give us strong soldiers to Jon's side already. We do not need the Tyrells...we need the Reach. However, having the Tyrells on our side would not hurt. I must think this over carefully, for both arguments are strong and appeal to me. I am willing to put our animosity with Mace Tyrell behind me if he agrees to support Jon's claim. I must sleep on it."

Arthur sighed. "I do not like using Jon in this game of thrones, especially since he has no idea of who he really is. I made a promise to his mother to look after him."

"Neither do I, Arthur," Doran said solemnly. "But we must what we do to protect our families...and our country. Jon is the key to our future; if he is willing to accept the consequences. Jon and Tyene, alongside the retinue of Dornish nobles, shall sail to King's Landing, and the outcome of all ours plans will either come to sweet fruition, or be tempered and shrivelled into disarray. One can only hope."

* * *

**Jon had been dozing off in a chair that was situated near a terrace that overlooked the gardens, **having packed his belongings and cleaned out his clothings for the journey to King's Landing. He had said his long and somewhat tearful goodbyes - to Arianne, Trystane, Daemon, Mors, Maron, Drey, Sylvia, Farina Sand. He still could not believe he was going. He enjoyed it the view of the Gardens, the stars and cool air, the pools illuminating in the moonlight of the night sky. It was peaceful. He was dreaming an old dream— of riding his horse through the Dornish plains. Oh, how Jon loved to ride. It was one of the things he excelled at the most. The wind on his face, and the breeze kissing his lips. It felt almost real…

He opened an eye to see her on his lap, her strong, fair legs on either side of the chair, straddling him, her fingers in his hair. She kissed him again, and this time it was met with returned intensity. His hands ran up her thighs, a soft moan escaping from her lips at his touch.

"Rivina," he said, as he cupped her cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"How could you not say goodbye me, Jon. I know your leaving tomorrow - Arianne told me. After all we've shared together, you don't have the decency to tell me."

"I was hoping you would pay a visit to my chambers so I could say goodbye in more than just words." Jon grinned as he kissed her lips. Gods, sometimes he wondered why the gods had even thought of marriage. This was _so _much better.

Rivina slapped him, and laughed at his confused expression. "You make me sound like a whore. And that bravado of yours is new to you, Jon. I like it. It is better than your serious and sombre self - a man of few words before making love."

"I did not mean to imply it that way," Jon said. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

Rivina rolled her eyes. "Still, you are serious. I was just joking, my friend."

"Oh, we are friends? _After all we've shared together?_" Jon did an imitation of her voice that made her chuckle.

_Am I stupid for doing this? For fucking her more times than I can count on my fingers? __I am only fourteen. _Jon realised he did not care.

He was awake now, fully awake, and now realizing this was no dream. He wanted her more than ever. His hands found her hips, then trailed up her stomach, all while her fingers were locked into his hair. Jon leaned into her kisses, craving more. He smiled when she pulled the shirt off of him, and he kissed her roughly. Jon deftly unbuttoned the nearly sheer nightgown she had on. His rough fingertips flicking over her nipples, a gasp escaping from her lips. Jon ripped the rest of her gown off of her, then reached for his own laces.

Finally freed from clothing, he let out a groan as she slid onto him. Rivina had a victorious smile on her lips, and Jon's hands fell her hips. She was in control now, and Jon was a willing prisoner to her charm. His hands traced her stomach, as he felt the pleasure building. He bit his lip, then picked her up. He carried Rivina to the bed, gently falling on top of her, showering her neck with kisses. He felt her moderately sized breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.

Jon had pinned her hands over her head, and was working himself into her, small moans escaping from her lips. He shifted and felt Rivina react the way he wanted her too. Her small moans morphed into full scale shouting, her nails biting into his back. She wrapped her legs around him, the new openness pushing her over the edge. She yelled his name in climax, but it cut out in the end— the force of her bliss taking her voice.

The feeling of her contracting on him, sent Jon right over the edge, and his name in her moments of release made it all the sweeter for him. He let out a ragged groan, his whole body tightening as well. "Rivina," fell from his clenched teeth, and it felt like it belonged there.

* * *

**One moment he was asleep; the next, awake.**

Rivina nestled against him, one arm draped lightly over his, her breasts brushing his back. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady. The sheet was tangled about them. It was the black of night. The bedchamber was dark and still, with only one candle burning near them. Wind sighed faintly against the shutters. Somewhere, far off, he heard the yowl of a cat in heat. Everyone was asleep except for him.

Rivina had worn him out, as usual. He did not know how she did it, but he had felt completely satisfied once they had finished their tangle. He looked down at her, marvelling at how they had come to this point. She was two years older than him at sixteen, though she was a forehead shorter than him. Her eyes were an unreal green like stained glass. Gods but she was good to look at. She had a strong face, sharp in the nose and the cheekbones but rich in the lips, all framed by the darkest of red hair. Her body was slender, her breasts moderately sized, her skin fair and her legs fit. Rivina was a good woman, strong and independent. She would not listen to you unless you made it worth her attention, and she was stubborn and flirtatious.

Jon had been the one to take her maidenhead when he was twelve years, and she had taken his virginity with her. For both of them, it had been as clumsy as it was passionate. But both had fond memories, and it had been a sweet encounter. He knew he would miss her when she eventually married another noblemen and had his children, but at least they had the good times between them.

She murmured sleepily as Jon slid out from under her arm and got to his feet. He was only in his boxer briefs. A few embers still smouldered in the hearth. The room was warm and damp, and he felt sweat trickle down his chest. Jon did a few stretches for his body and ran for a few minutes on the spot, easing away the tension coursing through his body. He needed to clear his mind and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would be the start of a brand new chapter in his life.

Jon poured some wine and drank it down in one, went to his bookshelf and pulled out a random book before heading back to his bed and lighting a candle, hoping for a good read. He was not disappointed when he read the title: TALES, SONGS AND LEGENDS FROM THE EPIC WONDERS OF THE AGE OF HEROES, by Maester Ferilani

Jon had been reading for almost half an hour before Rivina groaned and woke up from her sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and then looked at him tiredly.

"Jon? What are you doing up so late? Do you not have to get up early tomorrow for you ride to the Tor?"

"I couldn't sleep." He said without looking at her, skimming through the lines of his book.

Rivina yawned and shuffled closer to him, resting her head against his arm. "What are you reading?"

"A book."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"Thank you. Weren't you just complaining beforehand that I was too serious most of the time?"

"And I'll complain again if you act so much like a smart-ass _all _the time." Rivina pressed in closer and squinted at the page Jon was on.

"'And then Bran, with the help of the giants from the lands far beyond the winter's grasp, began to build the Wall for the purpose of defending the realm from a second incursion from the Others,'" She read. "The King In the North laboured with his men and followers for decades with the help of the magic fostered with the help of the Children, and the Lands of-'"

She shook her head and before he could stop her, grabbed for his book and took it in her hands, flipping it over and staring at the cover."The Age of Heroes? How old are you, five? Why are you so interested in this type of stuff anyway? This is history from ten thousands of years ago."

Jon reached for it back, but she took it out of his reach. "It's interesting. I mean, the seven hundred foot ice wall where the Night's Watch are situated to protect us from the wildlings? The greatest construction ever built? How has it not melted and collapsed after all this time, even in the cold barren North?"

"They have builders at the Night's Watch that repair the Wall when it is falling apart. I wouldn't exactly call it unbreakable. Haven't wildlings crossed over the Wall many times? Sounds like either the Watch or the Wall isn't doing it's job."

"Take Durran the Godsgrief then. He won the love of Elenei, the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. Her divine parents forbade their love, but Durran and Elenei wed despite them. The gods' wrath was terrible to behold, destroying Durran's keep on his wedding night, killing all his family and guests. Enraged, Durran declared war on the gods, who replied by hammering his kingdom with massive storms. Each time King Durran built a castle to face the sea the gods destroyed it. And then, the seventh castle Storm's End held against the god's might. Some say Bran the Builder himself helped Durran in Storm's End construction."

"Myths, Jon. All fantastical stories woven to hide the more practical truth."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe in the ancient times of magic?"

"I thought you knew me better. I believe in what I see with my own eyes. I cannot agree with some men and women who existed thousands of years ago. Maybe the Children of the Forest and the Others truly existed. Maybe Bran the Builder built the great ice Wall. Maybe Elenei and Durran began the line of Storm Kings. Hell, maybe Lann the Clever put sunlight into his hair. Maybe the the Others and their army of wights threatened to destroy the land. Does it really matter? The only thing I truly know is that dragons did exist in the world. It doesn't affect us any more than in those times. It is naive to believe we can learn from the pasts." Rivina regarded him. "I'm sorry, that sounded harsh." She handed him the book back, and Jon placed it on the table next to him.

"I don't know where all that came from. All I was saying that I liked the stories and legends from the Age of Heroes, and you gave me a lecture on history. I didn't realise you had such an opinionated view-"

"Shut up, Jon. Gods, now I like you better when you're quiet and solemn. When you start rambling, I just want to hit you across the face." She batted her eyes at him.

"I _did not _know that either. I'm learning so much about you, Rivina, every day. How come you-?"

Rivina kissed him, possibly to shut him up, and Jon found himself silent as he climbed back on top of her and hoped that Prince Doran and his father would forgive him for sleeping in as he entered inside her for another tumble.

* * *

_**Sorry if this first chapter does not have much story-progress in it. I just wanted to set it all up for an awesome story in the future. If people are confused about anything, PM me. I know, my writing skills are a work in progress. **_

_***Rivina Gargalen is an Original Character I made up, though House Gargalen does exist in canon**_

_***Lot's of sexual things in this chapter - and story. Mainly because in Dornish culture, the men and women tend hot-bloodedness and sexual licentiousness. **_

_*** Sorry for grammatical or spelling errors. I was in a rush when this idea came into my head. **_

_**Next chapter will deal with Jon's arrival at King's Landing. **_


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